


feel the pulse beat, beat, beat

by spiralpegasus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (in the beginning and they dont finish), Alpha Sylvain Jose Gautier, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, Consensual, Intersex Omegas, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentioned Lactation Kink, Omega Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pregnancy Kink, Semi-Public Sex, background dimidue, maybe a little plot as a treat, talk of ownership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25380199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralpegasus/pseuds/spiralpegasus
Summary: It's been two years since the end of the war, and Sylvain and Felix are happily mated. In the wake of the announcement that King Dimitri and his mate are expecting an heir, it comes to Sylvain's attention that some nobles in Faerghus are questioning Sylvain's place as Felix's alpha - the pair haven't had any children of their own yet, after all.Or, Sylvain is possessive and wants everything Felix is willing and able to give him - his love, his body, his life, and of course, his children. Basically, it's breeding/pregnancy kink.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 33
Kudos: 422





	feel the pulse beat, beat, beat

**Author's Note:**

> fill for this prompt on the kink meme: https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=1609948#cmt1609948
> 
> anon asked for possessive sylvain breeding felix with pregnancy kink and pregnancy-related dirty talk, and hopefully i delivered! went with a/b/o because it's my number one guilty pleasure
> 
> title is from flesh by simon curtis which is pretty much the theme for this whole fic
> 
> some additional warnings: the possessiveness in this is pretty intense, with mentions of ownership and collaring; it's wanted and consensual on both sides, but it's worth a warning. i also went with intersex omegas, meaning felix has both a penis and a vagina. gender-neutral terms are used for his vagina, and male terms are used for everything else. there are references to his breasts, particularly in the context of lactation/them growing bigger when he's pregnant. this fic is heavy on the pregnancy kink, meaning lots of discussion of a male character getting pregnant, bearing children, etc. if any of this will upset you, i would recommend giving this work a pass. take care of yourselves!
> 
> big shoutout to ama, who's always there to beta read my stuff and talk through my ideas with me. ilu ama

“His Majesty’s omega looks radiant,” the nobleman at Sylvain’s elbow says approvingly. “It is good to see our Kingdom’s future secured so soon after the war, is it not?” 

He’s some nobody alpha from a territory of dwindling importance, trying to curry favor with the people spearheading Faerghan reform to make sure he gets a good deal out of it. This gathering is full of them – nobles trying to get the ear of King Dimitri or his inner circle so they can preserve their status in the new United Kingdom of Fódlan. Sylvain breathes a sigh through his nose and plasters a smile on his face. 

“Yes,” Sylvain agrees easily. “The King Consort bears pregnancy well.” 

The noble’s face flushes at the reminder of Dedue’s title – not just the King’s omega, but a king in his own right at Dimitri’s insistence. Sylvain smiles behind his glass, taking a sip as the nobleman visibly collects himself. 

“Ah, forgive me,” the man stammers. What’s his name, again? Sylvain’s sure it starts with an A. “It is just— highly unusual, for the King’s omega to gain such status.” _For any omega to gain such status,_ Sylvain hears, and stifles another sigh. This has the potential to become a long conversation. 

“Mm.” Sylvain doesn’t want to bother arguing with someone who’s likely to be unseated by a popular vote sooner or later, so he doesn’t. He turns to seek out Felix in the crowd, hoping to find a way to excuse himself from this conversation. This is supposed to be a happy occasion celebrating the conception of King Dimitri and King Consort Dedue’s heir. 

The noble – _Amadeus,_ that’s his name – stumbles over himself to keep Sylvain from leaving. Sylvain closes his eyes and prays for patience as the man continues to speak. 

“How is your own omega? It must be difficult for him to be away from you when he is in Fraldarius.” 

Ah. A classic. Felix’s rise to dukedom was more or less seamless due to his Crest – he’s the only person alive who bears it – but there are people, even now, even after the war, that doubt his ability to lead because of his omega nature. They see it as inevitable that Felix will concede rulership of his territory to either Blaiddyd or Gautier and become the kept husband of the Margrave. 

(There’s a part of Sylvain that wants that. Wants Felix to give up his title and his territories, to leave his position at the King’s side, to belong to Sylvain and Sylvain alone. He does not voice these thoughts, and he’s offended at Amadeus’s presumption regardless; Sylvain has earned the right to see Felix tamed, where Amadeus has not.) 

“He manages well enough,” Sylvain says as pleasantly as he can. His attempt to keep his tone light is aided by the image of Felix overhearing that particular comment and stabbing Amadeus with one of the tiny dinner forks. 

Amadeus, clearly unaware of Sylvain’s worsening mood, chatters on. “The war has been over for two years, now. Even our Savior King has decided it is time to settle down and secure the future of Faerghus.” His eyes flit meaningfully into the crowd, and when Sylvain follows his gaze, he sees Felix against one of the walls talking to Annette. 

“The future of Faerghus doesn’t lie with bloodlines any longer,” Sylvain says, his smile tightening. “Our King will see to that.” 

Annoyance flickers across Amadeus’s face. “It makes the people anxious to see the staunchest allies of Blaiddyd without heirs,” he says. “Any alpha would be proud to call the Duke their own. If you find yourself… struggling to perform, I am sure any one of us would be more than willing to assist.” 

Rage twists hot and bright in Sylvain’s gut. “You’ll notice,” Sylvain says, composure hanging by a bare thread, “that Felix and I are mated. We’ve been mated since the war, and we will _continue_ to be mated.” His smile is more of an aggressive baring of his teeth. _“Exclusively.”_

Things like this were so much simpler during wartime. Scuffles over mates, particularly omegas, broke out all the time at camp during the war; nothing serious, nothing that injured anyone, but sometimes alpha posturing was easiest to figure out in a physical fight. Sylvain got into his fair share of brawls when other alphas took too much of a liking to Felix. He’d like to do the same with Amadeus right now. A few bruises and a set of teeth around his neck would shut this presumptuous alpha up quick. 

But this isn’t wartime, and disputes are to be settled with diplomacy now, not violence. There’s angry, possessive tension boiling in Sylvain’s belly and making his skin prickle. If he can’t fight it out, he needs to get his hands and his teeth on his omega to settle it down. He sets his glass down on the tray of a passing servant and gives Amadeus an insincere bow, saying through his teeth, “By your leave.” 

“Ah, wait—” Amadeus steps forward as if to stop Sylvain, clearly not done with this conversation. But Sylvain very much _is,_ and he none-too-gently slams his shoulder into Amadeus to shove him out of the way. 

Felix notices him right away, face first lighting up and then furrowing with concern at what must be a stormy expression on Sylvain’s face. Felix opens his mouth, but Sylvain has him by the arm before Felix can so much as greet him, tugging him towards the main hall’s exit. Annette watches them with curiosity and alarm, lips parting as if to speak. 

“Sorry, Annie,” Sylvain says, his smile strained. His grip on Felix’s arm is probably a bit too tight, but Felix doesn’t protest and Sylvain doesn’t let up. “I need to borrow Felix.” 

He doesn’t wait to hear her response, hauling Felix out of the main room and into the hall. He can’t stop imagining someone else’s hands on Felix, someone touching what Sylvain has claimed over and over again as his own – the one thing Sylvain is not only desperate but willing to _work_ to keep. Felix’s questions are white noise in Sylvain’s ears, lost to a tide of _mine_ and _touch_ and _claim_ as Sylvain shoves him into one of the window alcoves further down the hallway. 

“Sylvain, what—” Felix’s sharp question cuts off as Sylvain crashes their lips together. Despite his tone, he doesn’t shove Sylvain away as Sylvain licks at the seam of his lips, even opening his mouth to allow Sylvain entrance at an insistent nip. Some of the roiling anger in Sylvain’s chest settles at the feeling of Felix’s willing body beneath his hands. 

There are too many clothes between himself and his omega. Sylvain growls low in his throat as he paws at Felix’s doublet, desperate to have Felix’s yielding skin beneath his palms. His omega makes such pretty noises when Sylvain touches him, sensitive and writhing and falling to tears beneath his alpha – such a strong mate, subdued and tamed by Sylvain’s hand alone. 

“What’s – mmh, Sylvain—” Felix’s voice softens into a helpless mewl as Sylvain sinks his teeth into his neck, just above the collar of his jacket. Felix makes a valiant effort to continue, though he can’t stop his voice or his body from trembling. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I want you,” Sylvain murmurs against Felix’s skin, darting out his tongue to lick the reddening bite mark. His fumbling fingers manage to undo the first few buttons of Felix’s doublet, and he shoves his hands against the thin fabric of Felix’s undershirt to grip at his chest. Unbidden, he thinks about what Amadeus said about heirs – thinks about Felix’s sweet omega body going soft and round, belly full of Sylvain’s pups, perky tits swelling with milk, and he moans out loud. 

“Syl—Sylvain,” Felix tries again, yanking feebly at Sylvain’s hair. “Anyone could see—” 

Sylvain’s sure that’s supposed to deter him, but all it does is send a hot, possessive thrill through him. “Good,” he hisses against Felix’s throat, nosing at the scent gland beneath his ear and reveling in the way Felix clings. Let them see. Let _all_ the alphas here see. Let them watch how thoroughly Sylvain takes his omega apart, how easily he makes Felix drool for his knot. _There’s only one alpha he’s ever wanted,_ Sylvain thinks, vicious and triumphant as he shoves a thigh between Felix’s legs and listens to the resulting whine. 

“W-we can’t— _aah!”_ Felix’s halfhearted protest become a helpless, wordless cry when Sylvain wrenches his undershirt down and catches the flesh above his collarbone between his teeth. “Syl—Sylvain—” 

Nothing satisfies Sylvain more than reducing Felix to this – a begging, needy omega clamoring for his alpha’s touch. He loves Felix’s strength of will, loves his spirit and the way he keeps his chin up when even the most dominant alphas shout him down. He loves it all the more because _he_ is the only alpha Felix has ever knelt for. 

A tempest calmed to a breeze, a wildfire gentled to a candle. It’s heady to have this kind of power, and headier still to know he has it because Felix is offering it freely. 

He needs more skin beneath his hands and his mouth. He snarls at Felix’s doublet, yanking ineffectually at the buttons. 

“Stop, stop,” Felix gasps, even though Sylvain can smell how wet he’s getting, can feel how Felix rides his thigh seeking friction. Sylvain stills, waiting for Felix to continue. “I—you’re gonna—my heat—” 

“You’re due soon anyway.” Sylvain tugs at Felix’s buttons, making a small noise of triumph when one of them comes loose. “It’s fine if it comes early—” 

“Sylvain, _stop!”_

Felix’s tone brooks no argument, and as desperate as Sylvain is, Felix’s genuine distress cuts through the haze like nothing else. He doesn’t release Felix entirely, but he moves his hands to Felix’s shoulders instead and pulls the rest of his body away to give Felix space. 

“We can’t do this here!” Felix hisses, red-faced and embarrassed but still, undeniably, very turned on. He’s clinging to the front of Sylvain’s shirt like he can’t bring himself to stop touching his alpha. “People are going to be _looking_ for us!” 

His hands press and flex against Sylvain’s chest. It’s almost certainly unconscious, but he’s _kneading._ Sylvain’s alpha preens at how thoroughly Felix’s omega instincts are showing, at how comfortable and safe he makes Felix feel. The only thing stopping Felix here is _propriety,_ not discomfort at the way Sylvain was touching him. 

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain says, and he does genuinely mean it. He’s sorry he put Felix in the uncomfortable position of choosing between his dignity as a Duke and his desires as Sylvain’s mate. (He is not sorry for the marks he left on Felix’s neck and collarbone.) “We’ll get cleaned up and go back to the party, okay? We might get some looks, but we’ve been mated for years now. It’s not gonna cause a scandal or anything.” 

“I—whatever,” Felix mutters, leaning forward to thump his forehead against Sylvain’s chest. “If you triggered my heat early, you’re damn well going to take responsibility for it.” 

All is forgiven. Sylvain laughs gently, the urgency gone as he envelops Felix in a hug and presses his cheek to Felix’s soft hair. “Of course I will.” 

When they return to the ceremony, Sylvain can’t get his mind off the conversation he had. It makes him tense every time an alpha comes near Felix. Perhaps these are the same alphas questioning the legitimacy of Sylvain’s claim on Felix, questioning Felix’s choice of mate, questioning whether they might have a chance at courting Felix instead. Sylvain keeps a possessive arm around Felix, unable to stop imagining Felix heavy with his pups, bound to him in every possible way, his scent so mingled with Sylvain’s that no one would ever think it possible to tear them apart. 

He’s had these thoughts before. Things he doesn’t trust himself to tell Felix for fear of pressuring Felix into a decision he’s not ready to make. By the end of the night, with enough champagne and good conversation, he’s sure they’ll fade. 

* * *

The thing is, Sylvain can’t stop thinking about it. 

Sylvain was Felix’s first everything, right down to the awkward first kiss they shared as young children. The alpha in him rumbles with contentment to think of _his_ omega belonging to him and him alone in every carnal way, but it goes farther than that. He doesn’t just want Felix’s body. He wants _everything_ Felix can give him – his love, his life. His children. As many as Felix wants. A whole pack for him and Sylvain to care for, if Felix will let him. 

Sylvain could leave Gautier for good, maybe. He’s planning to return Sreng’s annexed territories to them anyway; Gautier will be small enough that its Margrave can live elsewhere, if it even needs to remain a territory at all. 

Felix is asleep in the bed beside him when Sylvain feels himself start to get shamefully hard at the thought of it. He’d live in Fraldarius territory with Felix, taking over all the fussy bureaucracy that Felix hates. Felix could spend his time training the knights, or sparring, or kneeling beneath Sylvain’s desk and warming his cock while he worked. He’d fuck Felix whenever he wanted to, bend him over and fill him with come, and Felix would let him; he may not be the perfect omega by society’s standards, but he’s always been perfect for Sylvain. He’d fill Felix up with his pups, watch his belly swell and his tits leak with milk, love him and keep him and _own him—_

He comes into his fist at the thought of Felix collared and begging for Sylvain to breed him. 

“Really, Sylvain?” Felix’s sleepy voice comes from beside him. Sylvain freezes. There’s no way Felix knows what Sylvain was fantasizing about, but he feels a flash of guilt all the same. 

“I’m insatiable,” Sylvain says, guilt quickly giving way to affection. He strokes his clean hand through Felix’s sleep-mussed hair. A half-lidded amber eye peeks out at him from the pillow, and his heart thuds against his ribs. 

He loves Felix. Every part of Felix – the ugly parts, the angry parts, the jagged, wounded parts. The sleepy, irritated parts glowering up at him from their shared bed. Plenty of alphas would trip over themselves to breed Felix, but Sylvain’s the only one who _deserves_ to. He’s seen the worst Felix has to offer along with the best, and he still wants to chain him to his side and never let him go, wants to shield him from the lascivious gaze of every alpha who thinks to claim him, wants to fuck his pups into him and own him inside and out. 

“Wanna help me clean up?” he asks lowly, raising his come-covered hand to Felix’s face. 

“I can’t believe you,” Felix mutters. “You expect me to just clean up your mess like that?” But he’s turning his head anyway, starting to open his mouth. 

The easy obedience makes something primal snarl in Sylvain’s mind; he wants to mark Felix up, rub his come into Felix’s skin, make it so their scents are impossible to disentangle. He smiles, a little dark, a little predatory, and smears his come onto Felix’s cheek instead. 

Felix jerks his head back, expression a little offended but not genuinely upset. He looks good like this. He always does, wearing his alpha’s come. 

And then Felix wipes the come off his face and onto his ownfingers, licking it off, and Sylvain’s alpha _howls_ in triumph. 

“You’re the worst,” Felix murmurs without feeling as he grabs Sylvain’s wrist. Methodically, he laps the rest of Sylvain’s come into his mouth, eyes drifting shut like he’s lost himself to Sylvain’s scent and taste. 

Sylvain loves him like this, soft and submissive like he never is with anyone but his alpha. He looks good with Sylvain’s fingers in his mouth and come still glistening on his cheek. 

He’d look even better in a collar. 

Sylvain would get it embossed with the Gautier crest. He may hate the damn thing, but it’s the most recognizable symbol of his house and territory, his _ownership_ ; with Sylvain’s crest at his throat and Sylvain’s pups in his belly, there would be no confusion about who Felix belonged to. 

These dark thoughts again. These possessive thoughts. Sylvain likes to think he has a handle on the Gautier depravity, but it lives in him all the same. 

“I love you,” he murmurs to Felix, stroking his fingers across Felix’s pliant tongue. Felix makes a soft noise, sucking gently on the digits like it’s Sylvain’s cock in his mouth instead. Sylvain wants to tell Felix what it means for Sylvain to love him, that it isn’t just tender lovemaking and promises of devotion but the greedy, possessive desire to take and claim and have. That _I love you_ also means _I own you._

He wants Felix to know that, and for his _I love you too_ to mean _I’m yours._

But Felix frees his lips from Sylvain’s fingers, murmurs “I love you, too,” as he drifts back to sleep, and Sylvain knows that if this is all Felix ever gives him, it will still be enough. 

* * *

Felix wakes up alone. That in and of itself is enough to irritate him, to say nothing of his body’s discomfort – his skin feels warm and tight, and his abdomen is cramping in a way he’s come to associate with pre-heat. 

He glowers at the ceiling. 

His heat wasn’t due for another two weeks at _least._ He’d been looking forward to spending it in Fraldarius territory with Sylvain, happily surrounded by both his alpha and the comforts of home, but here he is – alone in the castle’s guest chambers, diplomatic obligations promising to occupy both his time and Sylvain’s during the upcoming week, and very, very much about to go into heat. 

When he sits up, a soft weight tumbles from his chest and into his lap, and he realizes with a huff that he’d been clinging to Sylvain’s pillow. The scent of his alpha lingers on it, though it’s faded enough by now that Sylvain’s probably been gone for almost an hour. Felix is torn between irritation that Sylvain left him to wake up alone and warmth that Sylvain decided to let him sleep in. 

Sylvain’s probably in the study down the hall; he often works in that one because it has a view of the paddock, and he likes to watch the horses whenever he lets his mind wander. There are all kinds of treaties and requests and other tedious pieces of paperwork that could use reviewing now rather than later. Felix has a stack of them himself. With this many important people in one place at the same time, it’s a rare opportunity to get lots of business out of the way quickly and easily. 

It’s also nowhere near as important as getting his alpha to take responsibility for the state he’s put Felix in. 

Felix doesn’t even bother changing out of his nightclothes, only washing his face and rinsing the sleep from his mouth. His heats invariably make him useless for at least a week, cranky and unwilling to leave his nest even when he’s not lost in the throes of need. He’s not spending a moment longer outside of these chambers than he has to. 

Throwing one of Sylvain’s cloaks over his shoulders and stepping into his boots, Felix grumpily ventures out into the castle to retrieve his mate. 

The door to Sylvain’s usual study is shut, but Felix is always welcome unless Sylvain deliberately asks for space. He gives a cursory knock as he opens the door and sort of hates how quickly his annoyance melts into fondness at the sight of his mate hunched over the desk by the window. 

“Sylvain,” he says, trying to inject irritation into his voice despite feeling soft and needy with pre-heat. He wants to climb into Sylvain’s lap, tuck his face against his alpha’s neck, breathe in his scent— wait, no, he’s _mad._ Sylvain’s the _reason_ Felix’s heat triggered early, with his animalistic rutting at the King’s celebration and his late-night activities. Felix is _angry._

“Felix!” Sylvain picks his head up with a smile. Felix can pinpoint the moment Sylvain scents the reason for Felix’s intrusion. His eyes darken and his smile goes a little sharp around the edges, and if Felix was even a little bit deeper in his heat, that look would have sent him to his knees. 

As it is, Felix is still clinging to the lingering shreds of his irritation with Sylvain. “Whatever you’re doing, it can wait,” Felix tells him waspishly. 

“Yeah,” Sylvain says, setting down his pen and rising from his desk without once breaking Felix’s gaze. “I think it can.” 

They don’t run into anyone on the short trip back to their chambers, which is a relief; Felix very clearly smells of pre-heat, and Sylvain would probably snap the head off anyone who saw Felix in this state. Sylvain’s on Felix the moment Felix shuts the door behind them, tearing at Felix’s clothes; Felix’s tiny omega cock springs free of his sleep pants as Sylvain yanks the fabric down. His lack of smallclothes means that his slick is leaking down his legs, shiny and wet on the insides of his thighs. 

“You’re already so wet,” Sylvain says, dark, proud. “That desperate for me, Fe?” 

“This is your fault,” Felix snaps as he wrestles with the buttons of Sylvain’s shirt. “My cycle’s irregular to begin with—” 

“And I’m just too much alpha to resist, I know.” Despite his teasing, Sylvain doesn’t seem inclined to make Felix wait for his touch; the moment Felix shoves Sylvain’s shirt off his shoulders, Sylvain’s back on him, touching him, kissing him hot and heavy, shoving him towards the bed. “Goddess, Fe, you haven’t even made a nest yet—” 

“Later,” Felix pants. He’ll make a nest later, when his pre-heat tumbles fully into heat and he feels less like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin without his alpha’s touch. For now, he just wants Sylvain’s body and mouth and cock. When the backs of his knees hit the bed, he lets himself tumble down onto the rumpled sheets. 

Sylvain shoves him towards the middle of the bed and descends onto him with the same hunger he’d shown in the alcove outside the ceremony. Normally Felix would give him more of a challenge, more of a fight, answer Sylvain’s tongue and touch with his teeth to show his alpha he has to be won to be kept, but Sylvain seems to want full control today and Felix is inclined to let him have it. 

He’s abandoned Felix’s lips, electing instead to nip his way down Felix’s throat and down to his chest. He has a fascination with Felix’s tits, small though they are, and Felix’s sensitive nipples always have him whimpering under Sylvain’s touch. 

“Sylvain—” 

“Love your tits, Felix,” Sylvain says, kissing Felix’s sternum and rolling Felix’s nipples under his big thumbs. “Love how sensitive you are here.” 

“Don’t _tease,”_ Felix whines, looping a leg around Sylvain’s back to kick him gently with his heel. 

“Wanna fuck you full of pups,” Sylvain murmurs against Felix’s chest. “Wanna claim every part of you—” 

Felix shudders, nails digging into Sylvain’s back. “Please,” he whimpers, scrabbling for purchase against Sylvain’s sweat-covered skin. “Please, I— Sylvain—” 

“Yeah? You want that too?” Sylvain’s lips curve into a smirk against the sensitive bud of Felix’s nipple, and that’s all the warning Felix gets before Sylvain is sinking his teeth into it. Felix _wails,_ legs spasming at the overwhelming pleasure-pain, feet kicking against the bed as Sylvain suckles harshly at the tender flesh. 

Words are beyond Felix. He ruts up against Sylvain’s hard cock, clinging to Sylvain and trying to yank him closer. He _does_ want that – has wanted it for awhile now, spent every heat and rut they’ve shared looking at the bulge of Sylvain’s come filling him up and imagining it was their child rounding his belly instead, considered dumping his contraceptive tea every time he drinks it – but he never thought, never considered, never _asked_ if Sylvain could want that too. 

Sex is one thing, a mating bond another, but children – some part of Felix can’t imagine Sylvain _wants_ to tie their futures together quite so thoroughly. An alpha of Sylvain’s status and renown settling down with Felix, the lesser son, an ill-behaved omega, built for war and nothing else.But Sylvain—Sylvain is— 

“Your little tits will look so good full of milk,” Sylvain is telling him, lapping at the sore, bitten flesh around Felix’s nipple with a gentle tongue. “I’m so proud to call you mine, can’t wait to breed you—” 

Felix topples over the edge, coming with a shudder and a cry just from rutting against Sylvain’s belly. 

Sylvain pulls back, wide-eyed, and regards Felix with pupils blown wide with desire. “You liked that, huh?” he murmurs, lips curving into a smile that’s edged with wonder. 

Felix sobs, helpless and overwhelmed. He can only imagine the sight he makes, sprawled against the bed with his hair all a mess, face flushed with tears and his oncoming heat, dripping with his own release just from a little heavy petting and dirty talk. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sylvain says softly, leaning down to press a kiss at the corner of Felix’s eye. “You’re really starting to feel it, huh?” 

The thing is, he’s— not. He’s aware of how close his heat is, can feel it in the anxious buzz of his skin in every place his alpha’s not touching him, but his mind isn’t foggy with it yet. Just the idea of Sylvain claiming him that way, fucking his seed so deep into Felix that it literally becomes a part of him, is enough to make Felix gush. 

“Mm… not yet,” he replies, a little embarrassed to admit it but even less willing to let Sylvain think Felix’s excitement is related solely to his heat. “Just…” He sits up enough to press himself to Sylvain’s chest, tucking his face against Sylvain’s collarbone to hide the embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I… what you were saying…” 

Sylvain hums, pulling them both up into a more comfortable sitting position so he can run a hand up and down Felix’s back. “About pups?” he asks. He sounds significantly more sheepish now that Felix isn’t thrashing helplessly beneath his hands, though his cock is still hard. It’s a distractingly warm weight against Felix’s belly. The omega in him is growing restless with heat, demanding he service his alpha properly, but— 

“Don’t make my tea,” he blurts out. 

Sylvain’s hand freezes on his back. “Your… tea,” he echoes, uncomprehending. Felix can feel the moment the realization hits Sylvain, because Sylvain dislodges Felix from his chest so he can meet his eyes properly. “Felix, you—with me? Are you—” 

“Of course I’m sure,” Felix snaps. He shifts his gaze to the side, unable to endure the shocked joy on Sylvain’s face. “I don’t want any contraceptives. I—I want you to—” _fuck me, claim me, own me, breed me_ “—I want to have a baby. With you.” 

Sylvain is still staring, eyes wide, lips parted, and a wave of shame and insecurity crashes over Felix. He’s never known Sylvain to say things he doesn’t mean in bed, but dirty talk is just dirty talk sometimes. Has Felix made a fool of himself, baring this desire to a man who doesn’t share it? He pulls his hands back from Sylvain, crossing his arms and adding hurriedly, “If you don’t want to—” 

He’s startled when Sylvain bundles him up against his chest, crossed arms and all. Sylvain’s voice is a little muffled where his face is pressed into Felix’s hair as he says, “I want to. Goddess and all her Saints, I _want_ to, Felix. I just didn’t want to force you—” 

Felix barks a laugh, resting his hands on Sylvain’s chest and relaxing into his alpha’s hold. “What a pair we make,” he says, voice rough with unshed tears of relief. “I… I wasn’t sure if…” He shakes his head, forehead dragging across Sylvain’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I think it does, actually,” Sylvain says. His big hand winds into Felix’s hair, holding him firmly against his body. “You weren’t sure if I’d want to? You still think you’re second best to some imaginary omega I haven’t met yet?” 

Felix’s hands clench into fists. As always, Sylvain knows every part of him, even the parts Felix wants desperately to hide. 

“You’re the only person I’ll ever want,” Sylvain continues, his fingers stroking through Felix’s hair. “I’ll tell you that over and over, in a million different ways. I want you in my life, Felix, in any way you’ll allow it.” He ducks his head to nuzzle his nose against Felix’s scent gland, making Felix’s breath catch. “If you let me, I’d collar this pretty neck,” he whispers, and Felix shivers. “I’d leash you by my side and never let you leave. I’d show everyone how proud I am that you’re _mine.”_

“Sylvain,” Felix says weakly, one of his hands flying to Sylvain’s hair to cling and pull. The conscious part of Felix’s mind rails against the idea – the contrary part of him that’s learned that fighting back is the only way to survive. But the rest of him melts at the thought. That Felix could be so loved, so cherished, so _wanted_ that Sylvain would so proudly flaunt his ownership – that he would tell the world that he could have anyone, and the one he’s chosen to have and to love and to breed is Felix— 

Felix has been the second choice all his life. But not now. Not here, not with Sylvain. 

“Want me to show you?” Sylvain asks, low and dark. His tongue darts out to lap at Felix’s scent gland, making Felix whine. “Want me to fuck my pups into you, show you how much I love you?” 

“Please,” Felix whispers, hips jolting helplessly against Sylvain’s clothed cock. “Please, I—” 

His babbling pleas are cut off before they can begin when Sylvain shoves him back down against the mattress. When his back meets the sheets, his legs fall open easily to accommodate Sylvain as Sylvain presses up against his body, his hard cock straining in his pants as he leverages his weight to pin Felix down. 

“Please, your—your clothes—” Felix’s nails scrabble against Sylvain’s back. The texture of Sylvain’s pants against Felix’s bare body is rough, almost painful, and it’s not necessarily _bad_ but it’s definitely too much between his body and his alpha’s. 

“What, this not enough, sweetheart?” Sylvain grabs Felix’s arms and shoves them down against the sheets, linking their fingers together to hold Felix’s hands down. “Tell me what you want. Maybe I’ll give it to you.” 

Felix makes a frustrated noise, flexing his hands in Sylvain’s grip. “You—you know what I want!” 

“Mm. I’m not sure I do.” Sylvain leans down to kiss Felix’s chest again, tongue lapping at the still-stinging flesh around Felix’s nipple. “You have the cutest little tits, Felix,” he breathes against the wet skin. Felix squirms and whines, and he can feel the way it makes Sylvain smile. 

“I—Sylvain—” Felix bites his lip to stifle another embarrassing noise as Sylvain mouths at his nipple. His heat is surging up inside him in full force now, and coherent thought is fleeing him more with every second. “I need—” 

“Shh,” Sylvain soothes him, releasing his hands and sitting up to unlace his pants. “I know what you need. I’m gonna take care of you.” 

Felix doesn’t move his hands from where Sylvain had them pinned to the bed, even though Sylvain has released him; he just watches, desperate and hungry, as Sylvain sheds the remainder of his clothing. 

“Look at you,” Sylvain breathes, straddling Felix’s thighs, his hard cock bobbing tantalizingly close to Felix’s slick entrance. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his gaze rakes over Felix’s trembling body, and Felix shivers, feeling like prey pinned beneath the paws of a hungry predator. 

“I’d like it,” Felix forces out, voice shaking, “if you did more than just _look.”_

Sylvain huffs out a laugh, his big, warm hands skating up Felix’s sides and coming to rest on either side of his chest. “My omega went into heat two weeks early just for me,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing over Felix’s nipples. “Let me preen a little.” 

“Can you stroke _me_ instead of your ego?” Felix bites out. 

“Better be careful.” Sylvain’s gentle fingers turn harsh, tweaking one of Felix’s nipples and making Felix squeak. “Keep talking like that, and I might think I need to find a way to shut you up.” 

Felix pants and squirms under Sylvain’s hands, grasping for a response but unable to find one when Sylvain pushes his hips forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge Felix’s folds. 

“See? Not so hard to be good for your alpha,” Sylvain says cheekily. He knows full well what Felix’s heat does to his mind, and Felix tries to glare but squeezes his eyes shut with a moan when Sylvain pinches his other nipple. “Goddess, I can’t wait to see these tits all full of milk. So soft for me. How big do you think they’ll get, Fe?” 

“I—I don’t… _ah!”_ Felix arches his back when Sylvain leans down to press a kiss to Felix’s sore chest. “Mmnh—Sylvain…” 

“You know some omegas start dripping milk before they’ve even given birth?” Sylvain murmurs against Felix’s breast, his hands kneading the thin layer of fat over Felix’s ribs and his lips pressing reverent kisses against the skin. Felix cries out when Sylvain latches onto one of Felix’s nipples, suckling like there’s already milk in it; when he pulls back, a thin line of saliva connects his mouth and the reddened flesh of Felix’s chest. 

Sylvain wipes his lips with a thumb, grinning at Felix. “Bet you’ll be sweet for me,” he says, and Felix can almost see it – his tits heavy and sore with milk, no child born to nurse yet, relieved by Sylvain’s hot mouth suckling them. “You’ll look so good when you’re carrying our pups.” Sylvain’s hands move from Felix’s breasts to his belly, flat and smooth and taut with muscle, far from fragile but looking small and breakable beneath Sylvain’s large palms. “All round and heavy for me. All mine.” 

“All yours,” Felix agrees with a whine, jerking his hips up, desperate for friction against his cock, desperate for something in his sopping wet hole. “C’mon, I want it—” 

“You want it?” Sylvain leans down to press a kiss just below Felix’s bellybutton, pinning Felix’s hips down when Felix tries to rut up against him. “You want my baby? You want me to breed you like a proper omega?” 

Felix’s hands fly to Sylvain’s hair, clenching and _pulling._ “Yes!” he wails, thrashing against the bed, his body overwhelmed with heat and need. “Alpha, _please,_ breed me!” 

For all of Sylvain’s teasing, he doesn’t give Felix much warning before he’s gripping the base of his dick and sliding the blunt head into Felix’s folds. He moans when Felix shoves back against him, hips snapping forward to sink the whole, hot length of his cock into Felix’s body. 

Felix _wails._

It’s like coming home. Like Felix’s body has been empty and waiting, counting down the seconds to the next time his alpha filled him like this. Sylvain doesn’t hold back, his thrusts fast and selfish and brutal, slamming Felix into the mattress with every powerful snap of his hips. 

“Yeah, gonna give it to you,” Sylvain moans, leaning forward and folding Felix almost in half as he leans down to box Felix’s face between his elbows. “Gonna fill you up, pump you full of come—” 

“Please—please—” Felix clenches his thighs around Sylvain’s waist and flings his arms around his alpha’s neck, pulling Sylvain even closer as Sylvain fucks into him. He’s so full, so used, so owned, feeling Sylvain’s big cock pound into him. 

“You’re mine,” Sylvain pants as he noses at Felix’s neck. Felix bares his neck eagerly for his alpha’s tongue and teeth. “No one’s gonna question who owns you when you have a belly full of my pups, are they?” 

“N-no, Alpha—” 

“Can’t wait to see you pregnant—can’t wait to show you how well I take care of you and our pups—” 

“Please, please, I want that too,” Felix sobs, fist in Sylvain’s hair, pressing his alpha against his neck, wordlessly begging for a bite to reaffirm the claim Sylvain has on him. Sylvain’s hips stutter against Felix’s sloppy hole, growing knot catching on the rim with every thrust, and he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of Felix’s throat with a roar when he plunges his knot into Felix entirely. 

His hot seed warms Felix’s belly, filling him up just right, and Felix goes limp against the bed. Sylvain laughs at him, a little dark, a little mean, a lot possessive, and reaches between their bodies to get Felix off, too. 

Sylvain’s hand is big enough to envelop the entirety of Felix’s little omega cock. That combined with the full, heavy weight of Sylvain’s knot inside of him makes Felix feel small, held, _possessed;_ he sobs and clenches around Sylvain’s cock, milking him for every bit of come he has to offer as Sylvain twists his hand around Felix’s dick. Felix comes with a tired whimper, his spend splattering across both his and Sylvain’s bellies. 

Though not in rut, Sylvain keeps up admirably with Felix’s heat, pleasuring him with his fingers and his mouth when he needs time to recover between rounds. Sylvain pays special attention to Felix’s belly and nipples, murmuring about how good Felix will look when his body goes soft with their children; he kisses Felix’s hole with reverence as he uses his fingers and tongue to shove his come back inside. “We want it to take, don’t we?” he laughs as he fucks his spend back into Felix with three fingers, Felix thrashing and crying against the sheets. 

Felix’s heat breaks after just two gloriously exhausting days. The realization hits him after a short post-coital nap in the evening of the second day, and his stomach jumps with anxiety and excitement. There’s only one reason an omega’s heat ends early. 

“Sylvain,” he whispers, nudging his sleeping alpha. Sylvain makes an unhappy noise, tucking his face into the pillow. Rolling his eyes, Felix gives him a less gentle shove. _“Sylvain.”_

“Mmmmwhat,” Sylvain mutters against the pillow. “I’m too tired, Fe. Roll me over and ride me if you gotta.” 

“Sylvain, wake _up!”_ Felix insists, heart thudding against his ribs, faster by the second – a baby, they’re going to have a _baby._ He changes tactics, rapidly drumming his hand on Sylvain’s stubborn back like a child demanding their parent’s attention. “Baby!” 

“Don’t call me a baby,” Sylvain grumbles. 

“I’m _not.”_

There’s a long moment of stillness and realization. Then Sylvain turns his head so Felix can see his face, and what a face it is – pillow creases on his cheek, eyes bleary but wide, mouth agape. 

“Baby?” Sylvain asks stupidly. Felix nods. “Your heat broke?” Felix nods again. 

Sleepiness forgotten, Sylvain lurches clumsily into a sitting position and flings his arms around Felix. They’re both too precariously perched on the mattress to remain upright, and Felix lets the both of them tumble down into the bed, arms bundled around each other, laughing. 

“A baby!” Sylvain squeaks against Felix’s hair. His arms are big and warm and solid around Felix, and Felix can feel his feet kicking excitedly. “We’re gonna have a baby!” 

Felix sniffles against Sylvain’s neck, nuzzling against the bond mark he left there so many years ago. They promised themselves to each other as children, and they kept that promise, and now they’re going to have a family. 

Felix has somewhere to belong, someone to belong _to,_ and that happy future he’d only recently dared to hope for – for both himself and Sylvain – is growing in his belly. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed! this is by far the filthiest thing i've ever written and posted so uh. cheers i guess


End file.
